


Staring at the Bridegroom

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Drunk Sex, Implied James Potter/Sirius Black - Freeform, Implied Regulus Black/Sirius Black, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Minor Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour, Oral Sex, Past Bill Weasley/Charlie Weasley, Semi-Public Sex, Sirius Black Lives, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: Sirius seems to be the only one who's noticed how upset Charlie is about Bill's wedding, but then again, it seems he knows all about having inappropriate feelings for one's sibling.





	Staring at the Bridegroom

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely beta lq_traintracks for her incredibly helpful comments and suggestions. Also to gracerene for the prompt and to gracerene and melodic for their fabulous modding.

"You really need to stop staring at the bride, you know, Char," one of the twins whispered loudly in Charlie's ear as he sat at the table. He looked round to have a quick check as to which it was. George.

"Yeah, not subtle, bro," added Fred. "You're almost as bad as Ronnie is." He pulled a gormless lovelorn expression and gazed at where Bill and Fleur were waltzing together for their first dance.

Charlie made a brief effort to pull himself together, glared at his brothers and said calmly, "Oh fuck off, I'm not interested in Fleur."

"Really?" Fred asked. "In that case –"

"– you need to stop –"

"- staring at her," the twins chorused.

"Bugger off and hassle someone else," Charlie said; but he couldn't help smiling. 

The twins were so very much themselves, in all circumstances. He dared say, if he told them what the actual issue was, they'd take it in stride. Not that he had any intention of doing so. There was no way he'd ever say anything about it. But the twins' teasing was at least a small distraction from his thoughts; and god knew he needed one.

They took him at his word, however, both of them pounding him cheerfully on the back in a brotherly fashion (slightly harder than strictly necessary, of course) before moving off to corner some other poor unsuspecting person. 

Charlie's smile faded as they moved away, and he stared down at the table top, to prevent himself watching Bill and Fleur any more. His mother had polished all of the tables to within an inch of their lives (and ‘persuaded' Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny to help), but there had been drinks aplenty put on there since the wedding reception began, and it was no longer so pristine as it had once been.

Charlie was no longer so pristine as he had once been. It wasn't a broken heart. Of course it wasn't. But it was – something. And something he couldn't even talk about to anyone.

"Here." 

A deep voice startled Charlie out of his reverie, and he turned to see Sirius Black sliding with his usual graceless elegance into the seat beside him, whilst he pushed a Firewhisky across the table so that it stopped directly in front of Charlie. 

Sirius looked much better these days, since the Ministry had been forced to acknowledge that as well as failing to notice that Lord Voldemort had returned, they had also been chasing after an innocent man for the past couple of years. Harry, a little older and quite definitely wiser, had fought with determination and a surprising amount of cunning for Sirius's public acquittal; and had managed it. In the old days, Charlie had always had every sympathy for Sirius, even when others didn't. A free spirit himself, the idea of being cooped up anywhere, let alone in a house you loathed, was a horrendous thought. But now Sirius was free to roam – and looking a hundred times better for it. Charlie gave Sirius a slightly less cursory look, and couldn't help admiring him. Sirius might not be – well, _him_ – but he was a hell of an attractive man.

"Thanks." Charlie took a gulp. He'd already decided that the only way to survive the wedding – survive standing up next to Bill as his fucking best man, for gods' sake – was to get roaring drunk. Any help on the way was appreciated.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Sirius said conversationally.

"Oh, for – I'm not pining after fucking Fleur, all right?" Charlie said, with not a little exasperation.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I know that." He stretched out long legs, his dress robes falling around him and showing off the lean lines of his body. 

"Oh," said Charlie, deflating slightly.

"Not her. _Him._ "

Charlie, who had lifted the drink to his lips again, choked, spilling half of the tumbler down his front.

"Careful," Sirius chastised him, taking a grasp of the glass and returning it to the table. "That was the good stuff."

"Sorry," Charlie said automatically, brought up well by his mother. He glanced at Sirius, and then around the room, grateful to see that there was no one within earshot – and no sign of the twins' blasted Extendable Ears, either. "I just thought you said –"

"I said," Sirius interrupted, "that it sucks watching the guy you're in love with get married to someone else."

"He's my brother," Charlie said, trying to sound outraged and insulted, not terrified, and downing the rest of his Firewhisky hastily.

Sirius examined the bottom of his own glass. "Yeah, that sucks too. Death Eaters, marriage; doesn't really matter. You lose ‘em, you lose ‘em..."

"You..." Charlie realised he didn't know how to finish that statement.

"Yeah," said Sirius casually. He pulled a hip flask from his pocket. "It's refilling. Want some more to drink?"

Charlie paused. Would accepting a drink mean accepting... more than that? Acknowledging something which, before now, Charlie had believed had been a secret he'd take to the grave? Perhaps he should just walk away. Say no, to the whole damn lot.

He looked between Sirius's eyes and the flask a couple of times, and what he saw in that grey gaze gave him his decision.

"Yeah," he said.

They drank in silence for a bit. Surprisingly, Sirius's company really was an improvement on sitting alone. And, drink in hand, Charlie couldn't help going over what Sirius had implied. He'd heard in the past that Sirius's brother had joined the Death Eaters, but everyone said the two had not been close. They'd been set up, almost, as opposites: Sirius, the black sheep (perhaps the _white_ sheep?) of the Black family who'd been Sorted Gryffindor from a Slytherin family; and Regulus, the younger brother who'd always done what was expected.

"Did you mean it?" Charlie asked, at the bottom of the second glass.

Sirius spun his tumbler between his fingers, not looking at Charlie. He was silent for a moment or two.

"Yes," he said at last. He glanced up to where Bill had swept Fleur into a deep kiss. "C'm'on, let's get out of here."

He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out to tug Charlie up, too. The Firewhisky had been strong – and not Charlie's first drinks of the day, either – and the space wobbled for a second before settling back down.

"Where're we going?"

"Take your mind off it," Sirius said. "Come on."

He jerked his head and led his way out into what was left of the Burrow garden after the erection of the marquee. Just about everyone else was crammed into the small space, though Charlie could see a few figures moving within the house. But Sirius didn't head towards the house, instead turning in the opposite direction.

"What are you…?"

Sirius turned and gave him a grin. "What do you think?" he asked suggestively.

"Oh."

If he'd thought about it, Charlie wouldn't have reckoned he was Sirius's type. He certainly wasn't tall, dark and handsome – which by all accounts both Regulus Black and James Potter had been. He wasn't arrogant, nor a trickster (except when really needed); nor was he the broody type – at least, not usually. He was just…Charlie. A dragon-handler, cool under pressure and relaxed, but no one's heart throb. _He_ wasn't Bill.

"Have you got a problem with that?" 

Sirius's face was unexpectedly serious as he asked. Charlie knew that he only had to say he wasn't interested, and Sirius would shrug his broad, elegant fucking shoulders and head back into the marquee with no questions asked. He also knew that Sirius wouldn't spread gossip, whatever happened. It was his choice.

His choice, and he chose Sirius.

"Definitely not." Charlie couldn't do seductive, but he could do straight and to the point. He leaned in and up, and pressed his mouth against Sirius's in a determined kiss.

Sirius's hands went to Charlie's hips. "Mmm," he said, as the kiss finished, smiling faintly. "Perhaps we could take this somewhere more private." He looked around. "Like…there."

He moved away from Charlie and towards Charlie's father's tool-shed.

"Not in here," Charlie baulked, even as he followed Sirius inside. "We… Bill and I… I can't –"

"You need to make new memories," Sirius said huskily, flicking his wand to make the tool-shed door close and lock.

Charlie bit his lip, looking around. Remembering Bill up against the wall, both their cocks in his hand, that little smile on his face.

_"Shouldn't be doing this, little brother. But it feels good anyway."_

_"Yes – fuck, Bill, yes..."_

But Bill was out there schmoozing with the relatives. Marrying a French Veela, whilst Charlie…

Charlie was in the tool-shed with an older, but still handsome, man, who was dropping to his knees in front of him, hands reaching for Charlie's trousers. Black hair, with the odd grey strand, not golden-red. Broader than Bill; grey eyes, not blue.

"Ready?" Sirius asked; and Charlie realised he was.

Ready. Ready to make new memories. Bill was the past, and he was going to have to stay that way. Weasleys were faithful; it was in their genes, in their upbringing, in everything they knew and were. Bill wouldn't cheat on Fleur, and Charlie wouldn't want him to. Sirius – well, this was probably just a drunken one-off, and that was fine. Charlie would be going back to Romania anyway, and Sirius wasn't exactly the long-term kind of person himself. Not surprising, given his history, perhaps. But at the moment, Charlie had a damn good-looking bloke on his knees in front of him, clearly ready to suck him off – and Charlie, drunk or sober, wasn't going to say no to that.

Sirius pulled Charlie's cock out of his pants and looked up to raise his eyebrows.

"Not bad, Weasley," he commented. The tone was off-hand, but the expression in Sirius's eyes was anything but.

Charlie knew he was decently endowed. Bill wasn't the only bloke he'd been with, after all. Had to do something in the long, dark, Romanian nights when the dragons were all safely puffing smoke as they snored. But there was something about Sirius that made the praise work. Charlie felt his cock twitch in Sirius's hand at the words, leaking the tiniest drop of precome from its end. Sirius bent his head and licked the droplet, and Charlie took an unexpectedly deep breath. 

Sirius's mouth was warm. His tongue slid around the hooded head of Charlie's prick, pushing his foreskin back and then setting his lips against the revealed tip. Dear _Merlin_ , the man was good at this. And it was something Charlie and Bill had never done. Swift, guilty hand-jobs were the extent of it. Charlie had known, really, that Bill would find a real partner. After all, his brother had never been short of company. He'd just – Bill was _marrying_ the girl; and she was just a girl, barely twenty. Charlie hadn't been ready for it. Perhaps he'd never be ready.

Perhaps it didn't matter when Sirius had his mouth around Charlie's cock, swallowing him down like a pro. Making him think of nothing but the slick in-out of his prick and Sirius's lips. He could hear the vulgar sounds, the squelch and the slurp as Sirius took him in and out. Charlie fixed his gaze on Sirius, watching the single-minded dedication the older man gave to his work. He'd never been sucked like this. Charlie reached his hands back and scratched his nails against the battered wood of the shed wall, needing to ground himself somehow. The rough panels _scritched_ under his fingers, and the slight edge of pain added to the growing pleasure pooling in his groin.

"Uhhhh…."

The groan Charlie let out was too loud for the surroundings. Bill… _Sirius_ … had locked the door, but anyone might pass by. Anyone might hear. He bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood, and tasting the copper tang against his tongue.

Sirius leaned back a moment, replacing mouth with hand as he gazed up at Charlie. "That's right," he said. "Quiet. Think you can do it?"

Charlie tried for a glare, but he was too far gone. Sirius had already put his mouth back against the very tip of Charlie's cock, and it felt so unbelievably good. Charlie pulled more of his lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it. The small cut oozed blood into his mouth, but it felt impossible that any could possibly be so far north. Surely, _surely_ it had all pooled lower down, where Sirius was taking him to heaven.

Sirius hummed softly around Charlie's cock, and the vibrations shuddered through Charlie's entire body. He stifled the moan with difficulty, and heard – and felt – Sirius laugh low in his throat. He was working more quickly now, one of his hands sliding further into Charlie's underwear to caress his balls. Sirius looked up, and Charlie realised that he was checking that this was okay; that he wasn't going too far. It surprised him, in as much as Charlie could think of anything except his prick and what Sirius was doing to it – somehow, he wouldn't have thought of Sirius as being the type to ask permission; but he liked it. 

All the same, there had been little need on this particular occasion, in truth. Charlie pulled himself together enough to nod his head, the gesture vigorous enough to make Sirius's mouth curve in a smile around Charlie's cock. His palm rested gently under Charlie's balls whilst one finger slid back further still, pressing against his perineum. Charlie jolted at the touch, a motion which pushed his prick further into Sirius's mouth. Sirius might have had every reason to object, but he merely took it, sucking harder until Charlie was making little grunts with every breath – so close, and yet not quite there. The swooping moment on a broomstick as you rushed towards the Snitch; that moment when dragon fire _just_ missed and you felt adrenaline pump through your veins. Nearly… nearly…

Sirius buried his head against Charlie's groin, Charlie's cock lodged far, far down his throat; and Charlie fell. A sharp light in his head; the intense sensation throbbing lower down, so that nothing mattered, nothing made sense but this moment. His prick jerking and spurting in Sirius's mouth, his breathing – was he still breathing? Did he even care? Perfection, just for a minute or two. 

Then Sirius was leaning back, wiping his mouth. Charlie was catching his breath, remembering all of a sudden that he was at his brother's – at Bill's – wedding; that he had just had a blow job from Sirius fucking Black in the tool-shed where he and Bill…

"Fuck."

"That's one way of putting it." Sirius rose gracelessly to his feet, smoothing his robes down – though not before Charlie had seen the bulge in his trousers.

"Let me –" He reached out a hand, trying to gather some brain function after it felt as if Sirius had sucked it all out of his prick.

"Willingly." Sirius grinned, that big smile that he had seemed to lose during the years locked in Grimmauld Place. 

Charlie had seen it in pictures of him as a young man; it was nothing, however, to seeing it in real life, especially turned on him. Sirius was blinding, sometimes – in a good way. Charlie found it hard to cope with the sheer presence of the man: he had the sort of personality which could grab you almost physically. And when he literally _had_ been physically grabbing you...well. Charlie felt his heart take an unexpected extra beat, his breath suddenly trapped in his chest. That Sirius had willingly just sucked him off – more than willingly...it seemed an impossibility. What would a man like that want with Charlie Weasley, the plainest of a plain family?

He swallowed down his thoughts, and put his suddenly clumsy hands on the soft material of Sirius's trousers. Just as Charlie began to fumble with the buttons, however, there was commotion. A flash of white went past the window, and before Charlie could do anything more, there was the magnified voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt coming from the direction of the marquee.

_"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_

The white must have been Shacklebolt's Patronus, Charlie thought wildly.

"Shit. Shit," Sirius swore, his face suddenly turned from joyful to serious. He seemed to sober up in a second, and his expression was dark and threatening. Charlie could see, just for a moment, why people had believed him capable of murdering thirteen people.

"We need to go. My family –" Charlie's voice broke.

"Harry. Yeah. Morgana's tits, this was _not_ how today was supposed to go." Sirius made for the door in a single sweeping motion, glancing down and rebuttoning his flies as he did so, almost casual.

"Wait." Charlie caught Sirius's arm just as he was about to leave, and Sirius turned. It wasn't the time, Charlie knew, but somehow he couldn't help asking. "Was this a one-off thing, or…?" He trailed off.

Sirius's grey eyes looked him up and down, and he gave the faintest hint of a smile – the most anyone could expect in the circumstances.

"You know where I live," he said; then they both ran towards the marquee.

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/50752.html)! ♥


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